


The Things That Never Were

by PrancingProngsy



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrancingProngsy/pseuds/PrancingProngsy





	The Things That Never Were

It is on rare occasions that Tony finds himself drinking in the middle of the night, or better yet, in the wee hours of the morning. Technically, Tony Stark finds himself drinking all the time, but on these rare occasions, it is different. Drinking to forget is always strange for Tony. And yet, sitting on his stool in the kitchen with a glass held precariously in his shaking fingers, Tony knows that's what he's doing. Drinking to forget. He closes his eyes and presses the cool surface of the glass to his forehead, lips slightly parted as his eyes screw themself shut and he frowns. 

Despair. Utter despair. It claws at his insides. It's dark, so very dark and he can't see. And oh GOD the pain. Tony's blood drips throught the slats of wood that serve as a floor. His own moans of pain sound foreign to him and he can't understand where he is or how the hell he got there. The burning in his chest causes him to almost pass out again and he knows he doesn't have long. He saw what it was that got him. Or at least he thinks he saw it. He can't remember. All he remembers before waking up feeling like death is that he's a deadman walking. Tony's fingers clench in on themselves, his nails slicing into the skin of his palms. The air even smells of death. Dirt and blood. Tony bites his lip so hard it splits and more of his blood dirties his already ruined clothing. His heart feels like it's choking him and he can barely breathe. Someone is talking in a language he doesn't understand. He can't do anything. A bag is pulled off his head and suddenly he can see. He can see and it's bright and there are guns. _His_  guns. And sweet baby Jesus, his heart is going and he knows for some reason that it's not a good thing to get worked up right now. He recognizes his name before he passes out again and when he wakes, the scene is even less pleasant.

Tony isn't sure if it was the scapel on his chest, or the heat of his blood that woke him from his stupor. And suddenly there's this sound ripping from his dry throat and he knows he's screaming because the man standing above him, trying to operate, seems surprised. And Tony can't handle much more because oh god the pain is going to kill him before the shrapnel does. His heart is racing at a hundred beats per minute and-- And suddenly it's black again. 

 

Sometimes, that is when Tony wakes up. And sometimes when it is there that he wakes, the drink he needs isn't as strong. But not tonight. Tonight it goes on until Tony knows it must stop, but it doesn't. It just goes and goes. 

 

And after the second black out, Tony knows he's dreaming, and he tries and tries to break himself out, but all he can do is watch and be burried again in the pain and the heat and the stench. In his dreams, he wakes and they're trying to ask him things in a language he doesn't understand. Fear grips his heart. It's life or death and he's utterly paralyzed. And when he thinks he's saved by his surgeon, he discovers that he can't do as they ask.

And suddenly he's drowning. He can't breathe. Water rushes up his nose and he chokes on it. Water. Water is trying to kill him, when moments before he'd have given anything to drink just a small sip. Every bit of air is forced out of his lungs. He can't breathe. He can't-- He's choking. His throat is raw and pure panic pierces his heart. They're holding him down, and he is forced to watch as the last few bubbles of air leave his nose and mouth to glide to the top. And he's kicking and he can't even scream or plead for help because he's got nothing to expell. And when he thinks they're going to let him drown, they pull him up. Air floods his system, and he opens his mouth to take a huge breath, just as they shove him down again. As quick as the relief had been, the theft appeared to be just as quick and suddenly he was breathing in water and he was panicking again and his blood turned to ice. For a split second, Tony worries about the device that's keeping him alive. He knows he shouldn't get it wet. At least not with the wires exposed. 

He can _breathe_  again and they're pulling him up and onto his feet. Tony knows he can't walk too far. He's not eaten for several days. He can tell he's lost weight. At this point, he doesn't care about image. He cares about making it out alive. And they shove a picture in his face. Tony breaks completely. He nods and they make a list of everything he needs. Watching Yinsen die in front of him.... That usually wakes Tony up. Sometimes Tony can actually see through the holes in his body. All the way to the dusty floor of the cave. The smell of his blood, that half formed smile. That usually wakes him. The mangled body, the life stuttering after him, the realization that Tony Stark killed his family and that the man had wanted to die all along... That wakes him. Usually. The way that Yinsen's eyes looked just after Tony realized he was dead haunts his nightmares and he wakes up and he makes sure he's okay.

Tonight, Tony finds himself grasping at his chest, gasping for air, a name stale on his lips and he sits up, the sheets flying off the bed as he pads downstairs for a drink. He doesn't need to turn a light on, he knows this route like it was the back of his hand. He pulls himself down a glass and fills it almost all the way before throwing it down the hatch. It is quiet for several moments, only the glow of his life support and a tiny light he had to turn on to find the bottle he wanted, tells of anyone actually being awake. For a moment, Tony tries to convince himself that none of it happened. The silence drags on until finally, JARVIS' cool voice softly breaks it,

"Would you like to talk about it, sir?" There is almost an undertone of gentleness in JARVIS' voice and Tony's lips curve in a slight smile, 

"No, no, that's alright. Thank you JARVIS."

"I am only here to help, perhaps if you were to share what it is you've been dreamin--"

"I don't need your lecture," there is a slight pause,

"Of course, Mr. Stark. Perhaps you should begin limiting your alcohol intake. It merely increases as your dreams worsen, and I fear that before too long your body will shut itself down."

"JARVIS," Tony inflicts warning in his voice, but he is actually grateful. It might not be actual thought and caring in his direction, but it was close. 

"My apologies. I am merely attempting to look out for you..." Tony finishes his drink and sets his glass in the sink. He dims the light and slowly makes his way back to bed, 

"Thank you JARVIS..." he curls up in his bed and stares at the ceiling a moment longer, "Good night, JARVIS."

"Good night sir... Would you like for me to wake you, should your dreams again turn towards more unpleasant areas?"

"Yes... Thank you..."

"Of course, sir," And Tony knows he's in safe hands because JARVIS always looks after him.

"One last thing, JARVIS..."

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir. Get some rest," these nights... For JARVIS they never happened. No one knows about them except for the two of them, and JARVIS always erases them from his memory as soon as Tony asks him not to tell. Tony knows that JARVIS is going to keep his promise, and that JARVIS is going to take good care of him. Tony knows he's home.


End file.
